


The Mind's Sweet Meanderings

by ceallachrion



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: AkaKuroValentine2016, Akashi-centric, Alternate Universe, M/M, akashi is so cheesy it hurts, because they all go to the same school but it's not rakuzan nor teikou, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 10:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6002110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceallachrion/pseuds/ceallachrion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes Seijuurou four seasons to fathom the concept of love.</p><blockquote>
  <p>“I'm sorry," Tetsuya interjects before he can ask why. "I have been contemplating whether to wake you or not for a while now. You seemed to be having a nice sleep, but it’ll get dark soon and it would be dangerous to leave you here alone.”</p>
  <p>Tetsuya smiles through his apologies, and whether it was for his earlier action or something else, Seijuurou overlooks it to study this piece of the heavens that autumn’s air has whisked to his side.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>"It's Akashi-kun, right?"</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	The Mind's Sweet Meanderings

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the AkaKuro WYSV event, written for **Akashi #60**. I'm supposed to give chocolates for Valentine's Day, but you get a load of cheese instead, cries. Please also consider this as an AU since they all attend the same school which I've left unnamed. Happy Valentine's Day!

 

**I.**

For weeks, the soil feeds on life’s warmth and paints itself anew with familiar palettes of spring; the sun has long chased the chilling winters on human faces and reshaped the scenery with an ephemeral gleam.

Even with the world in the palm of his hand and his destiny set to assume his father’s mantle at a tender age, Seijuurou is no exception to the transition of seasons when he bathes in the glow of daylight that sends hearts afloat.

 

It starts by happenstance one morning when youth blooms to a new day to nurture one’s love, where cherry blossom trees rustle from nature’s breath and sprinkles life onto those below. 

Spring gives birth to one of many beginnings, yet this beginning is not a memory he will fully recall:

When they cross paths, pink petals get caught in blue tresses then flutter off into red; Seijuurou inattentively permits the gentle caress before they obscure his vision along with the breeze.

 

As effortless as many are enchanted by the allure of romance, Seijuurou is not so easily swayed by mere winds that carry the moods of love.

So he dusts off his hair and his sleeve from the dainty blossoms, then hastens his steps towards the building for his first day of class.

 

 

 

(But he looks back, ever so briefly like it lures him to a silent call; he catches it among the sea of people before it disappears — a soft glimmer of blue he mistakes for a fragment of the sky.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

**II.**

Night comes and spares Seijuurou from the swelter of summer. Rainfall frequents the first weeks of June and only grazes the early days of July; thankfully, the seventh is bestowed with the promise of clear skies.

Contrary to his yearly plans, this time he decides to accept his team’s invitation to honor the tradition of Tanabata for an outing by dusk.

Seconds upon arrival at the venue, they disperse to ogle at various stalls that catered to one’s interests, regrouping only at Kotarou’s firm reminder to write tanzaku together before engaging in other festivities.

They do just that as their first agenda for the evening. Reo is the only one who stays at Seijuurou's side when Kotarou haphazardly leads the way for them all, Chihiro lagging just a little behind and Eikichi straggling even further back from occasional stopovers for food.

Only one wish comes to mind when Reo hands him a strip of paper and a pen, one that requires no afterthought when he scribbles calligraphy in legible handwriting. He is the first to approach the array of bamboo trees.

Seijuurou is not one to nose into the affairs of others, but when he locates a vacant area to hang his tanzaku, his gaze flits over the neighboring branch and the note swaying in the breeze.

_My grandmother has been ill as of late. May her health improve in the coming days._

As endearing as it may be, it doesn’t end there and Seijuurou almost misses it, the small characters as its subtext: _I would also like to stand out more this year._

It’s uncalled for when he huffs a chuckle at the determination emanating from that neat and thin penmanship.

“Sei-chan,” Reo’s smooth voice soon pulls him away from his thoughts, and the mirth in Seijuurou’s eyes lingers even as he tears his attention away from the writing, “there’s a good spot for stargazing some distance away. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” he says as he ties his own wish of many victories onto a branch then joins his group.

 

 

The sky is graced by a dusting of stars overhead as Reo retells Orihime and Hikoboshi’s love with animated fervor; Kotarou more than willingly supplies the story with what he recalls from memory, while the rest follow along to the narration of an old, romantic tale. Eikichi helps himself to generous servings of yakitori sticks in each hand in the meantime, and Chihiro dodges his offers of food to sidle as far away from them as the blanket allows. He doesn’t fade in the background effectively enough though to escape Kotarou slinging an arm around his neck to drag Chihiro back into their circle.

Seijuurou welcomes this kind merriment once in awhile, allowing the chatters to fill the dead of the night — it isn’t distracting enough to take as noise, and he considers it a type of comfort that can only be found in the company of others.

So he lets their voices resound its aimless tune as he marvels in the stars in the tranquil silence of his own. A millisecond’s chance comes when a small streak of light passes from the reflection in his eyes, but it’s gone before he gets to blink.

When he looks back at his companions, all caught up in their little prattle now with Reo berating Eikichi for manners uncouth, he takes it that they have failed to see that lone shooting star.

(But no matter, for he has witnessed it for all of them.)

 

 

 

In that moment, Seijuurou ponders on the idea of love and thinks of it as too transient and delicate to hold in his grasp.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**III.**

Tetsuya is his name.

Seijuurou only learns of it months after the wind dyes the earth in his shade of red and gold. He finds solace in how it is now nature’s turn to conform to his world — cherry blossoms are no longer what fall but instead yellowing leaves, chipping off of frail branches to kiss the grass and the pavement at his feet.

 

“Excuse me…” Soft, like an angel’s whisper from the clouds, the voice lulls Seijuurou back from his dreams. He struggles to strike a balance in regarding the figure as celestial and terrene, a contrasting hue that fills his vision amidst the backdrop of orange and twilight.

“...Tetsuya,” he absentmindedly mutters before he can process his own words, and he doesn’t blame the surprise that sweeps over the other’s features. “Pardon.”

“How did you know?” The boy cuts him off, calm and lacking the alarm and correction Seijuurou expected to hear.

“It’s in the bulletin boards.” He gestures to the uniform and the school emblem sewn on the boy’s chest pocket that matches his own. By then he has regained his bearings and rid the sleep from his mind, and he closes the book he has left abandoned on his lap. “Kuroko-kun, yes? I’ve seen the library committee flyers.”

“Ah, I see.”

What he muses on as a trick of the light only renders him curious at how alarmingly faint one’s presence can be. Seijuurou is slow from adjusting his position against the tree as his mind starts racing back to many months ago, to the bamboos that had been set aflame to fulfill the desires of the soul.

He tucks that memory at the back of his mind to be forgotten and prepares to stand up until Tetsuya crouches before him, as if to prove he is not just fleeting company.

When the foreign feel of fingers reaches out to thread through short red locks, Seijuurou tenses to the flutters of crisp leaves raining down on his shoulders.

“I'm sorry," Tetsuya interjects before he can ask why. "I have been contemplating whether to wake you or not for a while now. You seemed to be having a nice sleep, but it’ll get dark soon and it would be dangerous to leave you here alone.”

Tetsuya smiles through his apologies, and whether it was for his earlier action or something else, Seijuurou overlooks it to study this piece of the heavens that autumn’s air has whisked to his side.

 

"It's Akashi-kun, right?"

 

 

 

Love is still an abstraction in his mind, much too complex to define in specific terms he can completely acknowledge. But in that point of time, it does not feel so out of reach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**IV.**

It comes in the form of chocolates.

 

If he stays under the snowfall, perhaps he can drown in something other than the sea of his own thoughts.

Because heaven is sweet on his tongue and scorching in his heart when he tastes it for the first time, and he aches to know what spell Tetsuya has infused in this craft to ignite a fire within him that rivals even the harsh winter cold.

“Akashi-kun, you are going to get sick at this rate,” Tetsuya scolds him, but it’s short of its intended reproach.

He belatedly notices Tetsuya fussing over him with an umbrella over their heads, the usual expression of worry present on his face as he brushes off the snowflakes in Seijuurou’s coat and hair.

Yet Seijuurou distractedly focuses on the fog of Tetsuya's breath instead, as it ghosts over his skin and leaves a tingle of warmth in its wake.

 

When he got enraptured by love, he does not abide to its laws and concepts. He does not fall in love in the literal sense — no, because an Akashi simply does not fall to mortal hands.

But he can associate this vaguely to the notion of freefalling in the skies; it is the rush of adrenaline that pumps in his veins, the thrill of the terror that leaves his heart pounding and shakes his bones — an exhilarating sensation akin to the days of youth where the momentum keeps going with sheer passion as the fuel.

It is the kind of fall where he is still above the world.

 

“Only idiots catch colds,” comes his reply as he takes another piece of chocolate from the box in between his fingers and pushes it past Tetsuya’s lips. Seijuurou watches with mild satisfaction, how his color blooms on Tetsuya’s cheeks.

 

The instance Seijuurou accepts that this is love, he thinks not of the suppositions but the winds and the clouds and skies.

And he _falls_ , in all its redefined terms.

 

“Let’s just go inside.” The hand that closes around his own is warm when Tetsuya tugs at him to follow. 

Seijuurou relents with a smile. “Alright.”

 

 

 

For what it’s worth, the excitement doesn’t die down as instantly as he thought. But when it all calms to the steady thrums of the heart, Tetsuya is the parachute that guides him safely back to land.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points to whoever catches the recurring theme (within the theme) of the fic!
> 
>  **Timeline:**  
>  Spring - Early April  
> Summer - July 7th  
> Autumn - Late November  
> Winter - February 14th
> 
>  ***Tanabata** \- Also known as "star festival" ; a yearly celebration every 7th of july where people write their wishes on strips of paper and hang them on bamboo trees along with decorations. They are sent afloat in a river, then burned afterwards as an offering for the wishes to come true.  
>  ***Orihime and Hikoboshi** \- Two lovers represented by the stars Vega and Altair who are only allowed to meet each other once a year as long as the skies are clear. Tanabata commemorates their story.  
>  ***Tanzaku** \- The piece of paper where people write their wishes.


End file.
